


If I Had You

by skiesinlove



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Kinda, Tumblr Prompt, it starts out sad but ends happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9341999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skiesinlove/pseuds/skiesinlove
Summary: But if I had you, that would be the only thing I’d ever needYeah if I had you, then money fame and fortune never could competeIf I had you, life would be a party, it’d be ecstasy~If I Had Youby Adam Lambert





	

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Tumblr user [dark-otter](http://dark-otter.tumblr.com/)

Viktor Nikiforov is 27 years old. He sits alone in his apartment, holding a glass of white wine and flicking errantly through Instagram. It’s been a while since he’s been out for pleasure. Viktor finds it difficult to leave the apartment without being mobbed by cameras and journalists, and even more difficult to find the motivation to look presentable enough for those cameras and journalists.

And what’s the point of going out if there’s no one to go with?

So he sits in his apartment alone looking through photos on Instagram because it’s the only thing to do at the moment. One hand swirling the chardonnay in lazy circles, the other propped on Makkachin’s head while he swipes past photo after disinteresting photo.

At 27, this is not exactly how Viktor imagined his life would be: and yet it _is_ exactly as he imagined. He’s the world’s top figure skater, fresh off the ice with another stream of almost effortless victories, in a high-end loft full of unfeeling ornamentation with no sentimental value. He’s had a slew of beautiful and wonderful girlfriends, he always has a mountain of fanmail to sort through, and he just bought a new custom-made Armani suit. It’s exactly how he imagined because his life bleeds luxury, fame, and fortune.

It’s not exactly how he imagined his life to be because his heart had been seduced by the ice for two decades, and not by a prince. It’s not how he imagined because when he came home his apartment was filled with a few stray poodle hairs and silence. It’s not how he imagined because instead of coming home to eat dinner with another living, breathing human, he comes home to a microwave meal and hours of scrolling through Instagram. There are no family photos. There are no trinkets from loved ones on the shelves. There’s just Victor on the sofa and Makkachin sleeping quietly in his lap.

Viktor scrolls through Instagram partly because he’s bored and partly because lately his mind has been occupied with black hair and glasses and the smell of expensive champagne. It’s been months, but for some reason that banquet has plastered itself to his brain and he can’t shake himself loose. It’s odd, because it’s not like it’s the first time someone has drunkenly hit on him, nor was it the first time another skater begged him to coach them. Each snapshot of the evening that plays over and over in his mind is unremarkable by itself.

So why can’t he get it out of his mind?

Just for kicks, Viktor finds himself on Yuuri Katsuki’s tag. The drunken incident is on his mind and he has nothing better to do. Most of the photos there are dull commentaries on the disaster that was Yuuri’s previous season. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. Why is he here?

A notification pops up at the top of the screen. He’s been tagged in something. Again.

But there’s nothing better to do so he opens the post anyway as he downs the last of his wine and sets it on the floor beside him. It’s a video—of Yuuri Katsuki.

Now, Viktor didn’t believe in coincidences, not when black hair and glasses had been casually waltzing through his train of thought daily. The video starts playing and Viktor recognizes the routine instantly, because that routine was _his_. It was choreographed specifically for him, miles away in all honesty from anything he’d seen Yuuri Katsuki attempt up to that point.

There’s no reason not to watch the video, so he does.

His heart stutters. He can’t look away.

 

Viktor Nikiforov is 27 years old. He’s on a red-eye flight from St. Petersburg to Hasetsu, Japan. Yuuri Katsuki had drunkenly begged him to be his coach so long ago, and somewhere between the dry humping and the stripping he’d taken up residence in Viktor’s head. He’s flying to Hasetsu because this _must_ have been Yuuri’s way of finally paying rent.

Viktor watches the video for what seems like the hundredth time on the train to the onesen where the locals say Yuuri lives. Even now, the way Yuuri’s body moves in the echoing quiet of the rink requires no music. It is music. It’s its own music, and it’s been stuck in Viktor’s head for since it played for the first time in his empty apartment. He watches it because something about it sways his life more towards “exactly how it should be”. He can’t explain it.

But he chases it anyway.

 

Viktor Nikiforov is 27 years old. He has been coaching Yuuri Katsuki for five months now. Viktor taps the wall on the edge of the rink while Yuuri warms up on the ice with the other skaters. Viktor never expected it, never dreamed it, but Yuuri is one of the most talented and tenacious skaters he’s ever met, deep down beyond that anxiety.

Yuuri skates in simple circles while he goes over his routine in his head. Even now, Viktor can’t take his eyes off of him. People tend to underestimate Yuuri, but perhaps that was for the best. The look of surprise on his competitor’s faces when he lands quads in the second half of his routine is priceless.

When Yuuri looks up, he smiles at Viktor, and Viktor’s heart does a backflip. Viktor winks. Yuuri blushes and returns to skating.

 

Viktor Nikiforov is 27 years old. He’s on top of Yuuri on the ice, having just kissed him on national TV. Viktor isn’t thinking about the cameras for once in his life. Instead, his eyes are full of black hair and brown eyes and affection. Viktor can’t remember the last time his heart soared like this.

 

Viktor Nikiforov is 27 years old. As he towels his hair off in the hotel the night after kissing top figure skater Yuuri Katsuki on national television, he watches Yuuri get ready for bed. He smiles. When Yuuri gives him a questioning look, Viktor shakes his head and shrugs.

Life is _exactly_ as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [tumblr](http://skiesinlove.tumblr.com) for more quality garbage :D


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